apology > offense

One thing I’ve always been good at is apologizing. I’ve always been able to find some way, in any conflict situation, that I’m in the wrong and use that as my opportunity to apologize in order to find resolution. I detest drama. I detest it rather greatly when I find myself in the middle of it. Resolution is quite important to me…Let’s just make up and move on.

BUT, when I’ve really done something wrong…When I’ve really hurt someone’s feelings…When the fault is solely mine –  Apologizing scares the snot outta me. I’ve never been more stressed than when I’m about to own up to a mistake that I’ve made –  I’ve also never felt more relief than when I’ve uttered the words, “I’m sorry.”

I’ve noticed that as I’ve grown older – I’ve received fewer and fewer apologies from my adult friends. Not that people are doing me wrong or that I’m looking for apologies… it was just a passing thought that I had one day and quickly moved on from.

Today, my friend apologized to me for a minor infraction – something that I had decided to let go of because I love him and I understand that sometimes we all get bent out of shape with the people that we care about…And no, it’s not Michael – Bless his heart. My friend didn’t have to tell me that he was wrong. He didn’t have to look me in the eye and say, “I’m sorry, Becky.” He didn’t have to give me a hug. But he did…And let me tell you something that I’ve learned  – The apology leaves more of an impression than the offense. I actually teared up after he apologized to me because I felt loved and appreciated. Sometimes the little things mean the most.

Apology>Offense.

Michael Moore. The solution to my problem.

I feel like my life revolves around the final school bell. This seat must have some kind of magnetic pull on my butt, otherwise I would have bolted by now. School is not my favorite. It’s ESPECIALLY not been my favorite since I became this dumped version of myself. I do have to admit, though – recently things are getting better. It’s taken a while, but I’m finally starting to feel more like myself. The pre-dumped Becky was so much cooler than this post-dumped one. 

I’ve been talking to this guy named Jeff. I’m certain that it isn’t love or anything close to it – but he makes me laugh, and that’s something. This past week of talking on the phone every night and just laughing and becoming friends has been amazing. I’ve actually forgotten how nice it is to just have a conversation with a guy…no arguments – no self-loathing – no jealousy. I just like him.

When the bell finally sounds, my seat releases it’s hold on me and I bolt to the parking lot with the rest of my classmates. We have been with each other all day, naturally we would hang out some more – either in the parking lot or at the local gas station. I actually never hang out at the gas station. I don’t find Jeff right away, so I scan the parking lot. It’s a gorgeous day, but that bright orb in the sky does wonders to this face with no shades. Jeff probably won’t recognize this squinty-eyed me. Ha! Amazingly, he does. Before I can get to my brother, Bruce’s worn out convertible, an oldie but oldie, Jeff waves me over. Being the sophomore that I am, I do the quick step to his car. He’s a junior AND pretty tall, so it takes more energy to make a move for him than it does for average ol’ me. I begin the longest, short stroll ever to his ride… 

Jeff had let me know earlier today that he wanted to ask me a question after school. All day I’ve imagined how he’d ask me to be his girl…I mean, there aren’t THAT many ways to ask, I suppose. But there was no doubt that he was going to ask. Who calls a girl EVERY night and doesn’t want to be her boyfriend? 

 I finally make it to his car. Let the awkwardness begin. Squinting and smiling I look up at him, “Hey.”

His friends are around, so I nod and smile to them, as well. They are far too interested in our conversation. He looks down at me and gets to the point, “Do you want to go to prom?”

Wow. I’m about to confirm all of their suspicions. The LePoints really ARE Puritans. “I’m so sorry, Jeff…I can’t go to dances – but we can still hang out, right?”

“No, that’s ok. See ya later.”

Dismissed. I’ve been dismissed. I’m not going to cry. I will not shed a tear for this jerk-face. Trying to walk fast and slow at the same time, looking like the weirdo that he just confirmed that I am, I finally make it to the car. One look and my brother knows something’s not right with me. I just stare at the floorboard and shake my head. Let’s get the h-e-double hockey sticks outta here, man. He reads my mind and we’re on the move. This car is a real piece, but I will admit that with the top down – it’s kind of nice. Once off school property, I told Bruce the shorter version of my short story.

“Beck, you should date Michael. He’s always liked you.” That’s it? These are his words of consolation? Michael Moore is his solution? Well, we’ll have to see about that. For now, I’ll just enjoy the wind in my hair and my favorite guy behind the wheel. 

***

My brother started the ball rolling on my future with that advice. How wonderful and mysterious is the gift of looking backwards into our lives? It’s really an amazing thing that we have access to. Peering into my past now… I’m so thankful to have had “Puritan” parents. Obviously, Jeff wasn’t motivated to take me to the prom to simply laugh and get to know my fabulous, post-dumped self. The Puritan’s rules – that I thought were so ridiculous – were probably what saved me from another unnecessary heartache.

I believe with all of my heart that Michael and I would have ended up together at some point in our lives, if not then. What’s meant to be, really will be…Sometimes we make choices that take us down the longer, scenic route instead of the the shorter, more eco-friendly one…And I will admit, sometimes a little scenery and time is a beautiful and necessary thing…But with Michael Moore? More time with him is all I have ever wanted. I’m thankful for our journey. I’m thankful that it started earlier rather than later.

I love you my Michael.

XXXX, Beck

*Names may or may not have been changed in order to protect the guilty/innocent. In other words, Jeff isn’t his name. 😉